FORESHADOWS
I returned to Texas early in September. My foreman on the Double
Mountain ranch had written me several times during the summer,
promising me a surprise on the half-blood calves. There was nothing
of importance in the North except the shipping of a few trainloads
of beeves from our ranch in the Outlet, and as the bookkeeper could
attend to that, I decided to go back. I offered other excuses for
going, but home-hunger and the improved herd were the main reasons. It
was a fortunate thing that I went home, for it enabled me to get into
touch with the popular feeling in my adopted State over the outlook
for live stock in the future. Up to this time there had been no
general movement in cattle, in sympathy with other branches of
industry, notably in sheep and wool, supply always far exceeding
demand. There had been a gradual appreciation in marketable steers,
first noticeable in 1876, and gaining thereafter about one dollar a
year per head on all grades, yet so slowly as not to disturb or excite
the trade. During the fall of 1879, however, there was a feeling
of unrest in cattle circles in Texas, and predictions of a notable
advance could be heard on every side. The trail had been established
as far north as Montana, capital by the millions was seeking
investment in ranching, and everything augured for a brighter future.
That very summer the trail had absorbed six hundred and fifty thousand
cattle, or possibly ten per cent of the home supply, which readily
found a market at army posts, Indian agencies, and two little cow
towns in the North. Investment in Texas steers was paying fifty to one
hundred per cent annually, the whole Northwest was turning into one
immense pasture, and the feeling was general that the time had come
for the Lone Star State to expect a fair share in the profits of this
immense industry.
Cattle associations, organized for mutual protection and the promotion
of community interests, were active agencies in enlarging the Texas
market. National conventions were held annually, at which every
live-stock organization in the West was represented, and buyer and
seller met on common ground. Two years before the Cattle Raisers'
Association of Texas was formed, other States and Territories founded
similar organizations, and when these met in national assembly the
cattle on a thousand hills were represented. No one was more anxious
than myself that a proper appreciation should follow the enlargement
of our home market, yet I had hopes that it would come gradually and
not excite or disturb settled conditions. In our contracts with the
government, we were under the necessity of anticipating the market ten
months in advance, and any sudden or unseen change in prices in the
interim between submitting our estimates and buying in the cattle to
fill the same would be ruinous. Therefore it was important to keep a
finger on the pulse of the home market, to note the drift of straws,
and to listen for every rumor afloat. Lands in Texas were advancing in
value, a general wave of prosperity had followed self-government and
the building of railroads, and cattle alone was the only commodity
that had not proportionally risen in value.
In spite of my hopes to the contrary, I had a well-grounded belief
that a revolution in cattle prices was coming. Daily meeting with men
from the Northwest, at Dodge and Ogalalla, during the summer just
passed, I had felt every throb of the demand that pulsated those
markets. There was a general inquiry for young steers, she stuff with
which to start ranches was eagerly snapped up, and it stood to reason
that if this reckless Northern demand continued, its influence
would soon be felt on the plains of Texas. Susceptible to all these
influences, I had returned home to find both my ranches littered with
a big calf crop, the brand actually increasing in numbers in spite of
the drain of trail herds annually cut out. But the idol of my eye was
those half-blood calves. Out of a possible five hundred, there were
four hundred and fifty odd by actual count, all big as yearlings and
reflecting the selection of their parents. I loafed away a week at the
cañon camp, rode through them daily, and laughed at their innocent
antics as they horned the bluffs or fought their mimic fights. The
Double Mountain ranch was my pride, and before leaving, the foreman
and I outlined some landed additions to fill and square up my
holdings, in case it should ever be necessary to fence the range.
On my return to the Clear Fork, the ranch outfit had just finished
gathering from my own and adjoining ranges fifteen hundred bulls for
distillery feeding. The sale had been effected by correspondence with
my former customer, and when the herd started the two of us drove on
ahead into Fort Worth. The Illinois man was an extensive dealer in
cattle and had followed the business for years in his own State, and
in the week we spent together awaiting the arrival of his purchase, I
learned much of value. There was a distinct difference between a range
cowman and a stockman from the older Western States; but while the
occupations were different, there was much in common between the two.
Through my customer I learned that Western range cattle, when well
fatted, were competing with grass beeves from his own State; that they
dressed more to their gross weight than natives, and that the quality
of their flesh was unsurpassed. As to the future, the Illinois buyer
could see little to hope for in his own country, but was enthusiastic
over the outlook for us ranchmen in the Southwest. All these things
were but straws which foretold the course of the wind, yet neither of
us looked for the cyclone which was hovering near.
I accompanied the last train of the shipment as far as Parsons,
Kansas, where our ways parted, my customer going to Peoria, Illinois,
while I continued on to The Grove. Both my partners and our segundo
were awaiting me, the bookkeeper had all accounts in hand, and the
profits of the year were enough to turn ordinary men's heads. But I
sounded a note of warning,--that there were breakers ahead,--though
none of them took me seriously until I called for the individual herd
accounts. With all the friendly advantages shown us by the War and
Interior departments, the six herds from the Colorado River, taking
their chances in the open market, had cleared more money per head
than had the heavy beeves requiring thirty-three per cent a larger
investment. In summing up my warning, I suggested that now, while
we were winners, would be a good time to drop contracting with the
government and confine ourselves strictly to the open market. Instead
of ten months between assuming obligations and their fulfillment, why
not reduce the chances to three or four, with the hungry, clamoring
West for our market?
The powwow lasted several days. Finally all agreed to sever our
dealings with the Interior Department, which required cows for Indian
agencies, and confine our business to the open market and supplying
the Army with beef. Our partner the Senator reluctantly yielded to the
opinions of Major Hunter and myself, urging our loss of prestige
and its reflection on his standing at the national capital. But we
countered on him, arguing that as a representative of the West the
opportunity of the hour was his to insist on larger estimates for the
coming year, and to secure proportionate appropriations for both the
War and Interior departments, if they wished to attract responsible
bidders. If only the ordinary estimates and allowances were made, it
would result in a deficiency in these departments, and no one cared
for vouchers, even against the government, when the funds were not
available to meet the same on presentation. Major Hunter suggested to
our partner that as beef contractors we be called in consultation with
the head of each department, and allowed to offer our views for the
general benefit of the service. The Senator saw his opportunity,
promising to hasten on to Washington at once, while the rest of us
agreed to hold ourselves in readiness to respond to any call.
Edwards and I returned to Texas. The former was stationed for the
winter at San Antonio, under instructions to keep in touch with the
market, while I loitered between Fort Worth and the home ranch. The
arrival of the list of awards came promptly as usual, but beyond a
random glance was neglected pending state developments. An advance of
two dollars and a half a head was predicted on all grades, and buyers
and superintendents of cattle companies in the North and West were
quietly dropping down into Texas for the winter, inquiring for and
offering to contract cattle for spring delivery at Dodge and Ogalalla.
I was quietly resting on my oars at the ranch, when a special
messenger arrived summoning me to Washington. The motive was easily
understood, and on my reaching Fort Worth the message was supplemented
by another one from Major Hunter, asking me to touch at Council Grove
en route. Writing Edwards fully what would be expected of him during
my absence, I reached The Grove and was joined by my partner, and we
proceeded on to the national capital. Arriving fully two weeks in
advance of the closing day for bids, all three of us called and paid
our respects to the heads of the War and Interior departments. On
special request of the Secretaries, an appointment was made for the
following day, when the Senator took Major Hunter and me under
his wing and coached us in support of his suggestions to either
department. There was no occasion to warn me, as I had just come from
the seat of beef supply, and knew the feverish condition of affairs at
home.
The appointments were kept promptly. At the Interior Department we
tarried but a few minutes after informing the Secretary that we were
submitting no bids that year in his division, but allowed ourselves to
be drawn out as to the why and wherefore. Major Hunter was a man
of moderate schooling, apt in conversation, and did nearly all the
talking, though I put in a few general observations. We were cordially
greeted at the War Office, good cigars were lighted, and we went over
the situation fully. The reports of the year before were gone over,
and we were complimented on our different deliveries to the Army. We
accepted all flatteries as a matter of course, though the past is
poor security for the future. When the matter of contracting for the
present year was broached, we confessed our ability to handle any
awards in our territory to the number of fifty to seventy-five
thousand beeves, but would like some assurance that the present or
forthcoming appropriations would be ample to meet all contracts. Our
doubts were readily removed by the firmness of the Secretary when as
we arose to leave, Major Hunter suggested, by way of friendly advice,
that the government ought to look well to the bonds of contractors,
saying that the beef-producing regions of the West and South had
experienced an advance in prices recently, which made contracting
cattle for future delivery extremely hazardous. At parting regret
was expressed that the sudden change in affairs would prevent our
submitting estimates only so far as we had the cattle in hand.
Three days before the limit expired, we submitted twenty bids to the
War Department. Our figures were such that we felt fully protected, as
we had twenty thousand cattle on our Northern range, while advice
was reaching us daily from the beef regions of Texas. The opening of
proposals was no surprise, only seven falling to us, and all admitting
of Southern beeves. Within an hour after the result was known, a wire
was sent to Edwards, authorizing him to contract immediately for
twenty-two thousand heavy steer cattle and advance money liberally on
every agreement. Duplicates of our estimates had been sent him the
same day they were submitted at the War Office. Our segundo had triple
the number of cattle in sight, and was then in a position to act
intelligently. The next morning Major Hunter and I left the capital
for San Antonio, taking a southern route through Virginia, sighting
old battlefields where both had seen service on opposing sides,
but now standing shoulder to shoulder as trail drovers and army
contractors. We arrived at our destination promptly. Edwards was
missing, but inquiry among our bankers developed the fact that he had
been drawing heavily the past few days, and we knew that all was well.
A few nights later he came in, having secured our requirements at
an advance of two to three dollars a head over the prices of the
preceding spring.
The live-stock interests of the State were centring in the coming
cattle convention, which would be held at Fort Worth in February. At
this meeting heavy trading was anticipated for present and future
delivery, and any sales effected would establish prices for the coming
spring. From the number of Northern buyers that were in Texas, and
others expected at the convention, Edwards suggested buying, before
the meeting, at least half the requirements for our beef ranch and
trail cattle. Major Hunter and I both fell in with the idea of our
segundo, and we scattered to our old haunts under agreement to report
at Fort Worth for the meeting of the clans. I spent two weeks among my
ranchmen friends on the headwaters of the Frio and Nueces rivers, and
while they were fully awake to the advance in prices, I closed trades
on twenty-one thousand two and three year old steers for March
delivery. It was always a weakness in me to overbuy, and in receiving
I could never hold a herd down to the agreed numbers, but my
shortcomings in this instance proved a boon. On arriving at Fort
Worth, the other two reported having combed their old stamping-grounds
of half a dozen counties along the Colorado River, and having secured
only fifteen thousand head. Every one was waiting until after the
cattle convention, and only those who had the stock in hand could be
induced to talk business or enter into agreements.
The convention was a notable affair. Men from Montana and intervening
States and Territories rubbed elbows and clinked their glasses with
the Texans to "Here's to a better acquaintance." The trail drovers
were there to a man, the very atmosphere was tainted with cigar
smoke, the only sounds were cattle talk, and the nights were wild and
sleepless. "I'll sell ten thousand Pan-Handle three-year-old steers
for delivery at Ogalalla," spoken in the lobby of a hotel or barroom,
would instantly attract the attention of half a dozen men in fur
overcoats and heavy flannel. "What are your cattle worth laid down on
the Platte?" was the usual rejoinder, followed by a drink, a cigar,
and a conference, sometimes ending in a deal or terminating in a
friendly acquaintance. I had met many of these men at Abilene,
Wichita, and Great Bend, and later at Dodge City and Ogalalla, and now
they had invaded Texas, and the son of a prophet could not foretell
the future. Our firm never offered a hoof, but the three days of the
convention were forewarnings of the next few years to follow. I was
personally interested in the general tendency of the men from the
upper country to contract for heifers and young cows, and while the
prices offered for Northern delivery were a distinct advance over
those of the summer before, I resisted all temptations to enter into
agreements. The Northern buyers and trail drovers selfishly joined
issues in bearing prices in Texas; yet, in spite of their united
efforts, over two hundred thousand cattle were sold during the
meeting, and at figures averaging fully three dollars a head over
those of the previous spring.
The convention adjourned, and those in attendance scattered to their
homes and business. Between midnight and morning of the last day of
the meeting, Major Hunter and I closed contracts for two trail herds
of sixty-five hundred head in Erath and Comanche counties. Within a
week two others of straight three-year-olds were secured,--one in my
home county and the other fifty miles northwest in Throckmorton. This
completed our purchases for the present, giving us a chain of cattle
to receive from within one county of the Rio Grande on the south to
the same distance from Red River on the north. The work was divided
into divisions. One thousand extra saddle horses were needed for the
beef herds and others, and men were sent south, to secure them. All
private and company remudas had returned to the Clear Fork to winter,
and from there would be issued wherever we had cattle to receive. A
carload of wagons was bought at the Fort, teams were sent in after
them, and a busy fortnight followed in organizing the forces. Edwards
was assigned to assist Major Hunter in receiving the beef cattle along
the lower Frio and Nueces, starting in ample time to receive the
saddle stock in advance of the beeves. There was three weeks'
difference in the starting of grass between northern and southern
Texas, and we made our dates for receiving accordingly, mine for
Medina and Uvalde counties following on the heels of the beef herds
from the lower country.
From the 12th of March I was kept in the saddle ten days, receiving
cattle from the headwaters of the Frio and Nueces rivers. All my old
foremen rendered valuable assistance, two and three herds being in
the course of formation at a time, and, as usual, we received eleven
hundred over and above the contracts. The herds moved out on good
grass and plenty of water, the last of the heavy beeves had passed
north on my return to San Antonio, and I caught the first train out to
join the others in central Texas. My buckboard had been brought down
with the remudas and was awaiting me at the station, the Colorado
River on the west was reached that night, and by noon the next day I
was in the thick of the receiving. When three herds had started, I
reported in Comanche and Erath counties, where gathering for our herds
was in progress; and fixing definite dates that would allow Edwards
and my partner to arrive, I drove on through to the Clear Fork. Under
previous instructions, a herd of thirty-five hundred two-year-old
heifers was ready to start, while nearly four thousand steers were
in hand, with one outfit yet to come in from up the Brazos. We were
gathering close that year, everything three years old or over must go,
and the outfits were ranging far and wide. The steer herd was held
down to thirty-two hundred, both it and the heifers moving out the
same day, with a remnant of over a thousand three-year-old steers left
over.
The herd under contract to the firm in the home county came up full
in number, and was the next to get away. A courier arrived from the
Double Mountain range and reported a second contingent of heifers
ready, but that the steers would overrun for a wieldy herd. The next
morning the overplus from the Clear Fork was started for the new
ranch, with orders to make up a third steer herd and cross Red River
at Doan's. This cleaned the boards on my ranches, and the next day I
was in Throckmorton County, where everything was in readiness to
pass upon. This last herd was of Clear Fork cattle, put up within
twenty-five miles of Fort Griffin, every brand as familiar as my own,
and there was little to do but count and receive. Road-branding was
necessary, however; and while this work was in progress, a relay
messenger arrived from the ranch, summoning me to Fort Worth
posthaste. The message was from Major Hunter, and from the hurried
scribbling I made out that several herds were tied up when ready to
start, and that they would be thrown on the market. I hurried home,
changed teams, and by night and day driving reached Fort Worth and
awakened my active partner and Edwards out of their beds to get the
particulars. The responsible man of a firm of drovers, with five herds
on hand, had suddenly died, and the banks refused to advance the
necessary funds to complete their payments. The cattle were under
herd in Wise and Cook counties, both Major Hunter and our segundo had
looked them over, and both pronounced the herds gilt-edged north Texas
steers. It would require three hundred thousand dollars to buy and
clear the herds, and all our accounts were already overdrawn, but it
was decided to strain our credit. The situation was fully explained in
a lengthy message to a bank in Kansas City, the wires were kept busy
all day answering questions; but before the close of business we had
authority to draw for the amount needed, and the herds, with remudas
and outfits complete, passed into our hands and were started the
next day. This gave the firm and me personally thirty-three herds,
requiring four hundred and ninety-odd men and over thirty-five hundred
horses, while the cattle numbered one hundred and four thousand head.
Two thirds of the herds were routed by way of Doan's Crossing in
leaving Texas, while all would touch at Dodge in passing up the
country. George Edwards accompanied the north Texas herds, and Major
Hunter hastened on to Kansas City to protect our credit, while I hung
around Doan's Store until our last cattle crossed Red River. The
annual exodus from Texas to the North was on with a fury, and on my
arrival at Dodge all precedents in former prices were swept aside in
the eager rush to secure cattle. Herds were sold weeks before their
arrival, others were met as far south as Camp Supply, and it was
easily to be seen that it was a seller's market. Two thirds of the
trail herds merely took on new supplies at Dodge and passed on to the
Platte. Once our heavy beeves had crossed the Arkansas, my partner and
I swung round to Ogalalla and met our advance herd, the foreman of
which reported meeting buyers as far south as the Republican River.
It was actually dangerous to price cattle for fear of being under the
market; new classifications were being introduced, Pan-Handle and
north Texas steers commanding as much as three dollars a head over
their brethren from the coast and far south.
The boom in cattle of the early '80's was on with a vengeance. There
was no trouble to sell herds that year. One morning, while I was
looking for a range on the north fork of the Platte, Major Hunter sold
my seven thousand heifers at twenty-five dollars around, commanding
two dollars and a half a head over steers of the same age. Edwards had
been left in charge at Dodge, and my active partner reluctantly tore
himself away from the market at Ogalalla to attend our deliveries
of beef at army posts. Within six weeks after arriving at Dodge and
Ogalalla the last of our herds had changed owners, requiring another
month to complete the transfers at different destinations. Many of the
steers went as far north as the Yellowstone River, and Wyoming and
Nebraska were liberal buyers at the upper market, while Colorado,
Kansas, and the Indian Territory absorbed all offerings at the lower
point. Horses were even in demand, and while we made no effort to sell
our remudas, over half of them changed owners with the herds they had
accompanied into the North.
The season closed with a flourish. After we had wound up our affairs,
Edwards and I drifted down to the beef ranch with the unsold saddle
stock, and the shipping season opened. The Santa Fé Railway had built
south to Caldwell that spring, affording us a nearer shipping point,
and we moved out five to ten trainloads a week of single and double
wintered beeves. The through cattle for restocking the range had
arrived early and were held separate until the first frost, when
everything would be turned loose on the Eagle Chief. Trouble was still
brewing between the Cherokee Nation and the government on the one side
and those holding cattle in the Strip, and a clash occurred that fall
between a lieutenant of cavalry and our half-breed foreman LaFlors.
The troops had been burning hay and destroying improvements belonging
to cattle outfits, and had paid our range a visit and mixed things
with our foreman. The latter stood firm on his rights as a Cherokee
citizen and cited his employers as government beef contractors, but
the young lieutenant haughtily ignored all statements and ordered the
hay, stabling, and dug-outs burned. Like a flash of light, LaFlors
aimed a six-shooter at the officer's breast, and was instantly covered
by a dozen carbines in the hands of troopers.
"Order them to shoot if you dare," smilingly said the Cherokee to the
young lieutenant, a cocked pistol leveled at the latter's heart,
"and she goes double. There isn't a man under you can pull a trigger
quicker than I can." The hay was not burned, and the stabling and
dug-outs housed our men and horses for several winters to come.